


The Open Road

by kuro49



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Truckers, M/M, Tumblr: hansencestadvent, Unrelated Hansens (sadly)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herc drives a Mack truck, and there, on the side of an Outback highway, is a kid with his cap pulled down low.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Open Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vedettal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vedettal/gifts).



> The stars aligned themselves in the sky to make this happen. You would think I was meticulously planning a trip through the Australian outback via hitchhiking if you saw the amount of tabs I had opened.
> 
> Written for the [Hansencest Advent](http://hansencestadvent.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, prompt: _Chuck/Herc Roadtrip AU_. And if there's one thing you will know about me, roadtrips are my bulletproof kink, and given the fact that I've written more than 1 roadtrip fic with the two of them already, I tried to switch it up with truckie!Herc and hitchhiker!Chuck.

He picks him up on the side of the highway.

The asphalt is looking hot enough to burn the rubber off of the wheels as he slows. Herc gives the hitchhiker standing there in probably what’s too little sunscreen for what’s probably too long a wide berth, careful of the amount of dust the truck is throwing up.

At least this time, he’s not making a run on a road train or he won’t be able to slow down at all given the distance. Even with roads as flat as these, he’s not about to risk upwards of a hundred and fifty tonnes at the speed that he’s got going now.

Herc comes to a full stop almost twenty feet behind the hitchhiker, and watches as he waits for what he presumes to be a kid to make his way over. He’s got a cap pulled down low, his bags slung over his back, and Herc isn’t sure of much, just that the sun blazing above hasn’t done the kid any favours.

When the passenger side door is pulled open, Herc is quick to ask, “Where’re you headed, kid?”

“I’m not a kid,” is what he gets first.

Herc doesn’t laugh but he’s biting his tongue because that cap doesn’t hide a thing. Herc is generous if he gives him twenty-five, with enough dirt on his face and maybe a few more calluses on those hands.

But with that attitude, Herc is just surprised he’s gotten so far from the last roadhouse he passed almost two miles back.

“Come on, you’re letting the AC get out.”

“It’s not _that_ hot, old man.”

Without a name and with an attitude like that, Herc’s entirely comfortable with calling the kid just that.

There’s a second pause where Herc can practically see the gears turning in his head, the young man weighing out what’s the worst thing that could happen if he climbed on. And there’s not just a little satisfaction when he gets into his passenger seat, even with the grimace looking like a permanent fixture on that face. Herc asks once more, “You headed somewhere?”

“Just out of Sydney will do, mate.”

“You’re already miles out.” Herc remarks, but he isn’t about to ask him for his life story, so he makes his own offer instead. “I’m on schedule for Alice Springs, you good with that?”

The kid takes off his cap, runs a hand through his hair, and gives Herc a long, hard look. If Herc thinks he takes reassurances well, he would say something. People tend to like that even if Herc isn’t one for talking. But Herc’s got a feeling that he doesn’t take reassurances well, if at all.

In the silence that Herc gives him, he isn’t saying no, and he isn’t getting out of the truck.

“Buckle up then.”

And for all of the five minutes that he knows the kid, he isn’t looking like he’s about to bolt. Herc gets them back on the road and hopes the hitchhiker he’s picked up doesn’t see the way his mouth turns up at the corners.

 

They are covering distance, right on schedule, and the kid on his right has fallen asleep twice now. Herc doesn’t really do music or conversations, and the kid seems to like that just fine.

“It’s Chuck.”

He tells him, out of nowhere, and it’s not a thank you but Herc doubts anyone’s ever gotten that out of the kid.

“Herc.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“I can ask you the same thing.” Because there’s Charles, and then there’s Charlie, and maybe even Chas, but there’s also the expression on Chuck’s face that tells Herc this has something to do with that life story. “…It’s short for Hercules.”

Even if it’s meant to be an apology, it’s not a very good one. But considering that it’s not an apology at all, it’s not so bad when Chuck turns his head to Herc and _grins_.

“Laugh and you can find someone else to take you to Alice Springs, _kid_.”

Chuck doesn’t laugh but it’s a close thing.

 

When they stop to eat, Chuck tries to pay for their food, and Herc would be insulted if it isn’t for how hard the kid tries.

“Don’t be stupid and put your money away, I’m not about to have an under aged kid pay for my dinner.” They are sitting in one of the smaller booths with their knees colliding beneath the table every time they move.

Herc winces and between his hiss of pain, Chuck still manages to bite out, “I’m twenty-one, you arsehole.”

“And I’m old enough to be your dad, put your money away.”

It takes a little longer to settle the kid but between the indignant glare he’s getting from across the table and the knee digging insistently into his own, Herc’s probably lucky to get out of this with just one bruise to show.

And to think, they’re both trying to be nice to each other.

 

Four more hours out on the road and it gets too dark for driving to be much of a good idea. Even with the bull bar installed on the front of the truck, kangaroo is still a nuisance to clean.

Herc takes the sleeper cab for the night, and Chuck leans the passenger seat back far enough to fall asleep. Herc wonders if he should have made the offer to drop Chuck off at the next roadhouse so the kid can catch another ride that is driving out in the dark. Except there’s the soft inhale and exhale of breath that isn’t his, and Herc isn’t sure if he’s ready to let that go just yet.

The next morning, the Outback offers the same damn thing, a dry insistent heat and the landscape of dirt and sand splayed out flat. And for the amount of times Herc’s seen this sight, he isn’t sure whether he’ll ever get tired of it.

“Ever had a go driving one of these things?”

“…You do know I don’t have a license.”

Herc shrugs, eyes easily trained on the wide expanse of rocks and shrubs dotting the view. “See anyone out here?”

Chuck huffs out a soft laugh, and it’s the most comfortable Herc’s seen of the kid in the twenty-four hours since he’s known him. “I see you.”

It doesn’t feel like something Chuck would say, but he’s said it, and Herc isn’t sure what he’s supposed to make of it. So, Herc doesn’t give himself the room to think about that, just starts on the simple mechanics of hauling a semi-trailer around in this terrain of dirt and sand.

“Good, then you can learn something, kid.” Because this, he knows, he knows the engines and the transmission, not the way Chuck looks at him as he talks, watches him as he points out the basics. “This beaut here’s a Mack truck, see the bulldog there, respect that. We, truckies like to call him Max.”

He lets him take the wheel, talks him through the start and stop. He watches him adjust the seat until he’s comfortable, and lets him loose on these roads.

“…It’s the freedom, isn’t it, that’s why you do this.”

“The pay’s not so bad either.” Herc answers, shrugging as he does.

“It doesn’t get lonely?”

“Did you think I stopped at the side of the road ‘cause of your well-rounded personality, mate?”

Herc sees the way Chuck smiles, and he doesn’t know whether it’s the thrill of driving one of these trucks or something else entirely, but Herc figures it matters very little.

Sure, it’s the freedom.

It’s also the sense of adventure of encountering someone like Chuck out on the open road.

 

They are eight hours out of Alice Springs, still on schedule, and Herc’s been meaning to ask where Chuck will go from there. But the words don’t feel right, weighing all wrong on the flat of his tongue and he can’t begin to understand the amount of hesitation he feels. Just that he’s got no right.

Right now, right this second though, that’s about the last thing on his mind.

“If this is your way of thanking me—”

“It’s not.” Chuck cuts him off, tossing him one of those aggravated scowls he does so well but he doesn’t stop, he barely even slows down when he’s got him shoved against the door of the gas station washroom.

His hand traces skin across belly and hip, and Herc can push him off if he wants, that much is clear. He can also stay right where he wants him, and he wants him is the clear statement that Chuck is saying without those exact words.

Herc doesn’t do well with words and he doesn’t do well with affection.

But Chuck is promising him none of those things at this very moment.

“I’m old enough to be—”

“Got it the first time you said that,” Chuck glances up at him, his mouth inches from Herc’s jaw, and he is debating, gears turning in his head once more if he wants this man more than he cares to settle his nerves. The fact that the answer is _yes_ is a telling thing.

“If it helps, I dunno, think of me as a kid with daddy issues so we can get on with it.”

Herc looks mortified for a fraction of a second and it’s enough to get Chuck laughing into his shoulder.

“…That doesn’t help at all.” He assures him weakly, and it’s the same when Chuck keeps a hand around Herc’s wrist, squeezes down to tell him exactly this.

“Good.”

Because Chuck isn’t in it for the delusion, Chuck doesn’t find that Herc reminds him of his old man, not that he remembers the man at all. But Herc reminds him of that comfort he’s had from when his mother’s still alive, and if running from Sydney leads him to finding just this again, Chuck has a feeling he needs this in his life. “Now help me get your pants off.”

Chuck doesn’t smile the smile that he knows will get him the rides to get across the country. With Herc, he pushes closer, dragging lips and tongue before he is biting down at the junction where his neck meets his shoulder, smiling the one that he knows Herc can’t see but will feel on his skin for hours after this.

They are careful not to drop their pants to the floor, laminate tiles that feel sticky beneath the soles of their boots. They are also careful about the noise. Herc isn’t one for conversation but he isn’t one for keeping the noises from getting out from between his teeth.

They make do with what they have on hand, and what they have is Chuck’s fingers in Herc’s mouth. Reducing what would have been shouts into gasps, gasps into barely audible things sighed into the push of Chuck’s cock into Herc.

And he might wait for him to adjust, to make it easier for the both of them even with the amount of slick used, but they are not careful with leaving marks when he fucks into him again.

Herc feels every kiss, every bite, every inch of Chuck buried inside of him.

“Fuck,” Because this is not at all the right hand he’s used to when he’s on the road and on the clock for weeks on end.

This is heat and pressure and Herc being reminded just how long it’s been when Chuck pulls his fingers from his mouth, trails spit across his chin and neck before reaching down to wrap his hand around Herc.

Chuck reminds him just how good it can be.

 

It’s a really tight fit, the two of them on a single cot in the sleeper cab, three hours out of Alice Springs. Herc has his back plastered right against Chuck’s chest, and Chuck has his arms draped to Herc’s front.

Herc is still thinking whether he’s got any right to ask where Chuck’s headed after this when Chuck tips his head forward, resting his cheek against the back of Herc’s neck.

“You got me out of Sydney.”

“You got yourself out of there, kiddo.”

Chuck doesn’t answer for a long time and just when Herc thinks he’s fallen asleep, he asks him this in the dark where he can’t see his face. Not that that means a thing given how Herc can imagine Chuck’s expression just as easily as if they are both beneath the sun.

And to know someone to this degree in the amount of time they actually know each other, it’s a heady thing.

“…Where after, old man?”

And for all the times Herc’s thought about asking him the exact same question, Herc forgets that Chuck doesn’t know his life story either. That Chuck hasn’t asked for his just as Herc’s done.

“Darwin,” Herc tells him and this time there’s no hesitation, “And you?”

“I’m thinking maybe I want to get a heavy truck license,” Chuck answers, easily, evenly in the dark.  “Think y’know anyone willing to give a kid like me a spin at the wheels?”

Herc doesn’t laugh but he’s biting his tongue because the dark doesn’t do a thing for either of them. He can feel Chuck’s smile like it’s his own.

“I think I might know someone.”

“Good.”

And it’s exactly as the kid puts it.

 

XXX Kuro


End file.
